Kat's Conlon
by Katherine Conlon
Summary: Things are always interesting when a girl falls for someone like Spot Conlon- not always good, not always bad. But always interesting. Rated T just to stay on the safe side
1. Chapter 1

The night was still young and the moon full as Kat Jacobs drifted through the empty streets of Brooklyn. She moved swiftly but comfortably in the fading light, filled with what can only be described as self-determination as she left him behind, gaping in his doorway. Well, he could stand there looking like a fish all night if he wished; she wasn't coming back. She wasn't at all sure where her wanderings would take her, but she scanned the street for somewhere out-of-the-way to spend the night.

The wind started up, scattering her hair and kicking dirt into her face. Cursing silently to herself, she spit out a mouthful and rubbed at her eyes. If the breeze hadn't stopped as suddenly as it began, she never would've heard him behind her. It wasn't a specific sound that alerted her to his presence- nothing exactly that she could put a finger on- but something made her spin around and search the shadowed store-fronts behind her. There was nothing there for her to see but inky blackness.

"Kyle?" she called out with uncertainty, wondering if perhaps he had been following her from the house. But there was no reply and with the wind now gone, the street was silent once more.

"Hmmm." She said aloud to herself, and she shrugged and continued on, this time with more caution. The feeling that she was being followed grew into absolution in the form of prickling on her neck. It gnawed at her mind, causing her to cast nervous glances behind. Every alley she passed suddenly seemed to follow her with unfriendly eyes. Unable to view any of the potential sleeping spots as secure, Kat decided to make further towards Manhattan. Things weren't half so frightening there.

The same warning as before- perhaps it was the shuffling of shoes- had her spinning around so quickly she almost tripped. She shifted to the balls of her feet, balancing there and ready to take off at a moment's notice. This time someone definitely slipped back into the shadows. And it wasn't Kyle. She didn't even have to think; there was no way that she was going to scamper on down the middle of the street in plain sight.

Darting into the nearest alley, Kat raced about halfway down before stopping to crouch behind some wooden crates. She didn't want to loose herself in running unless she was really being pursued. In spite of herself, her panicked breathing sounded loud in her own ears, and attempting to quiet it only left her gasping all the more.

At the head of the alley, there was a scuffling sound so faint that Kat wasn't sure if she'd really heard it. Then a figure was silhouetted against the night behind him. He took one step towards her hidden form; two steps.

With an explosion of adrenaline, she burst from behind the crates and tore off down the alley with as much speed as she could build up in the short time. Her mind was frozen in fright but the rest of her body seemed to be working in the opposite direction. Her feet pounded through alleys and back ways, legs pumping. Luckily she was a quick and steady runner- always had been. Kat had also been jumped various times before. Living on the streets made this something difficult to avoid- but how she wanted to avoid it now.

She skidded around a corner, sliding on some loose gravel and catching herself before she fell. Hearing faint breathing behind her prodded her along at a quicker pace; she was only minimally confident in her ability to outrun him. His footsteps grew louder and Kat could only imagine that he was catching up; she didn't dare turn around. Her body was coiled like a spring, ready to strike if it came to that. But just as she was squeezing her eyes shut, the echoing footfalls faded out. She spun around without slowing, once again almost loosing her balance. There was no one. When she finally convinced her feet to stop moving, she was completely alone, in total silence. Surely she hadn't outrun him. No, she had heard sounds of retreat as he left. Panting like a dog in July, at a loss of breath out of fear rather than fatigue, Kat put her hands on her head to help suck in more air.

She twisted around in a circle, scanning the alley she was in, still incredulous that her pursuer had simply given up. But he didn't appear to be anywhere close. In fact, there was no evidence that he had ever even been there at all, although Kat knew better. She began walking slowly, further down the passageway.

This time when she spun around she knew she'd for sure heard him. He burst out of an adjoining alley at full speed and was almost to her before she could react. The oath she spat was loud and desperate. It echoed off of the walls that closed in around her as she dashed off again. Her head was still turned over her shoulder but she knew that the next corner was nearing.

*WHAM*

Kat collided with something firm and immovable, crashing to the ground with enough force to knock the newly breathed air from her lungs. Her neck snapped back; her head cracked on the ground. Her initial thought was that she'd poorly guessed her distance from the wall. She only realized differently when rough hands grasped her around the waist and yanked her from the ground. Her closed eyes flew open. Already painfully dizzy and out of breath, her face was buried in someone's chest, muffling the cries they must've expected.

As her body hung limply, her head spun wildly and her mind raced but only in circles, making no progress. By this time, Kat guessed that there were at least two guys- perhaps more- and that she had been herded and abruptly cut off from her escape. She tried not to be sick as she was jostled along in strange arms. She thought that they were running, and the knowledge that whoever carried her was strong enough to do so with her in tow was an uneasy one. Realizing suddenly just how desperate her situation was becoming, she drew on her last ounce of strength to twist so abruptly the arms actually released her.

She hit the ground again with an audible *umph*. She heard a curse from somewhere, too far away she thought to be the guy above her. His voice echoed strangely and his shadow simmered at the sides as he leaned over her. Her mind felt clouded; even the slightest of movements on her part took a lifetime to execute. As if in slow motion, a new set of hands ensnared her. The desire to fight had left her, and her attempt at flight had failed.

A floating sensation overtook her as they continued on, completed by the sound of lapping water heard nearby. Wanting so badly to close her mind like she had closed her eyes, Kat sunk gratefully into something akin to unconsciousness. The last thing she heard before submersion was another curse.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note**: Well I put up the first part of this story earlier and here's the second. More to come latter, of course- hope ya' like it.

**Disclaimer**: If you've heard the name before, it's not mine :)

Senses came back slowly, one at a time. First, Kat was aware again. She was aware of laying on something that felt suspiciously like a bed and not at all like the ground she'd expected to be spending that night on. Following closely behind was the enormous pain in her head. It flared up behind her eyes and pounded in her ears. It was not so loud however, that she couldn't hear a whistling noise coming from beside her.

She jolted upright as she regained full consciousness and narrowly missed hitting her head for the third time, on the rafters of the bunk bed that she was laying on. Her eyes darted around the room so hurriedly that the action only served to intensify her headache. She was in a plain room with wooden floor, walls, a ceiling. There was a trunk and a door opposite her, as well as a window to her left. Another door was on her right.

The whistling beside her had stopped and now Kat heard a low chuckle. She jerked around to see him, leaning a chair back on two legs with his hands folded behind his head. Light brown hair fell over his forehead and into denim-colored eyes that were currently sparkling with amusement. His mouth was pulled up in a sardonic half-smile to complete the expression on his all- too-familiar face. It was all she could do to keep her chin from dropping. To her disbelief, Spot Conlon himself leaned forward, smirking with pleasure at the look of recognition on her face. Nothing made sense at all anymore, Kat decided as she gaped at him.

"Ma' Lady" he drawled, bowing elaborately from his chair in what she decided was only mock-chivalry.

"Hello." She managed quietly, her voice sounding very unsure. Kat studied her host with poorly concealed distrust as she lowered herself back down onto the pillow. Spot too was quiet as he looked her over. He took in her white-blonde hair; noted the spat of freckles across the bridge of her nose and the way her face flushed under his gaze. Her skin was dark, contrasting strongly with her hair and eyes, which were summer-green and framed by thick lashes. She was small-scrawny he thought- but his boys had claimed to have some trouble bringing her in- quite obviously they had.

Kat cringed as he surveyed her unabashedly, looking smug as he did so.

"Wha's ya' name doll?" He asked finally, looking back up into her eyes. She glared at him as fiercely as his presence would allow, feeling extremely vulnerable and curious as to why Brooklyn's king had need for her. She hesitated with her response to the simple question long enough for Spot to raise his eyebrows.

"Kat" she replied finally in a feeble voice. His smirk widened.

"Kat?" Was he deaf? She wondered irritably. Or perhaps he was confused by her nickname. She usually introduced herself by full name anyway. She was just so flustered…

"Well, Katherine." was her hasty addition.

He leaned back in his chair again.

"Well, which is it sweet'art?" he prodded.

"It's Kat" If her voice was feeble now, it was feeble steel.

"Mmmmm" he nodded. " An' how old are ya', Kitten? Maybe… 11?

Her eyes tightened at the corners and her mouth set into a hard line.

"It's Kat. And I'm 14, thank you." She snapped.

"Oh," was his snide reply. "Pa'don meh." And he moved like he was tipping his hat to her. Distaste was all she felt for the infamous leader, however it was distaste not marred by disappointment. He was everything she had heard him to be.

"So, bein' 14, whaddaya doin' on da' streets a' Brooklyn by ya' self at night?"

Kat glanced uncomfortably around the room and squirmed on the bed. She had no desire to anger Spot Conlon. But neither did she care to tell him her business.

"I don't see how it's ayn concern of yours." she thought the reply sounded somewhat meek, and by Spot's still glinting eyes, he must've too.

"Dat don' seem ta' be a very wise response. Bein' in my house an' on my bed like you is. Surely after what I done fer ya'- takin' ya in off da' streets 'n all- ya' could humor me wid' your cooperation. Ya' do realize whose bed youse is on." He added haughtily.

"You're Spot Conlon."

"Dat's very good, Kitten." Her body wailed with exhaustion, but Kat didn't feel at all comfortable shutting her eyes in her current position. She looked up at the bottom of the top bunk, studying Spot out of the corner of her eye.

"Now, since we got dat outta' da' way, les' try dis' again. How come ma' boys found ya wanderin' around so late on ya' own?"

"Those were *your* boys?!? You gotta be kidding! Why'd they assault me and drag me to you?!" she squeaked in her anger, rising up off of the bed. Spot remained calm.

"T'ink I'll ask da' questions if ya' don' mind, angel." And he reached a hand over to her shoulder where he pushed her gently back onto the mattress. He didn't say anything then, and after a confusing and- by Kat's standards- uncomfortable silence, she gleaned that he was waiting on her to answer his original question. She sighed heavily.

"I was looking for somewhere to spend that night." If she kept her answers short, there was a slimmer chance that she'd make a fool of herself.

"You live on da' streets?" he stated more than asked, as though he already knew her reply. She wanted to say no and prove him wrong, but he was right. So she nodded.

"Wull that ain't no good. Ya' gotta' have a way a makin' money; a place ta' stay." Not sure where he was going, Kat simply nodded again and tried to keep up although her head swam madly.

"So, how 'bout bein' one a' mah newsies?" He continued. Her head snapped up and she looked at him with unbridled curiosity, stained by skepticism. Kat was more than surprised. An employment offer was the last thing she'd expected.

"I… you brought me here to offer a job?" she stuttered. Spot's eyes tightened a bit at the corners. He was growing tired of explaining himself- something he rarely did. He stood up from his chair, towering over where she lay on the bed. It seemed to Kat that he was trying to further assert his authority. It was working. His face was cool, but terrifying to her. She swallowed hard and sunk further into the mattress involuntarily.

"I borught ya' 'ere ta' get ya' off da' streets. An' now dat ya' are, yer gonna' be one a' ma' newsies." Suddenly the offer didn't seem so much like a choice anymore. Kat nodded mutely, staring up into stormy eyes. She'd been a newsie before and hadn't hated it. And she knew that it was better to be with the Brooklyn newsies than against them. Spot sat down again, leaning over her closely as his eyes trailed over the matted blood in her hair and her slightly battered face.

"I see ya' gave ma' boys a run fer dere money." Kat looked down in embarrassment.

"They certainly gave me a run for mine." was her reply. Spot reached over to brush his fingers over the bruises that were forming on her face. His touch left goose bumps in its wake, and butterflies in Kat's stomach. She swallowed hard and pulled back slightly. Spot pretended not to notice; he didn't look at her as he spoke.

"Ya' wanna' clean up?" He offered, fingering a few strands of her hair. Spot was electrifying. It was impossible not to react to him. And he knew it. And Kat hated it.

She tried to sound casual.

"I look that bad?"

"I'm sure ya've looked bettah." He flashed a grin up at her. "Washroom's right dere. I'll 'elp ya'" Without waiting for a response, he put a hand under her elbow and helped her sit up. Then he waited patiently by her side as she slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. She stumbled a little, immediately overcome by vertigo, and Spot caught her around the waist. Her face flushed and she looked up at him from under her lashes. He smirked.

"Dis' way darlin'" He supported her weight as they walked over to the door Kat had noticed across from the bed. When the door opened before her, they were standing in a room larger than the one they'd left. There were stalls along the sides, with sinks down the middle. The only thing she saw in the way of washing was a barrel with a pump for water. She blanched at the prospects and glanced at Spot but he wasn't looking at her. He set her down on a bench and went to close the door on the other side of the room. Kat heard faint snoring through it and wondered if the other newsies slept in that room but shared the washroom with Spot. It didn't surprise her that he bunked alone. When the door was shut and latched, he turned back to her. Neither of them spoke for a moment, Kat quickly averting her eyes to the floor when she found that she was unable to match Spot's steely gaze.

"So, I'm supposed to wash in that?" she asked, trying to keep the uncertainty from coloring her tone as she indicated the pump and bucket. He pushed off from where he leaned against the wall and made his way over to her.

" Ya' got a better idea?" He seemed to be enjoying her position. Kat knew that the water would drain as quickly as it was pumped, and that the only way for her to wash was for someone else to pump while she rinsed in the barrel. And that someone looked like it was going to be Spot. She winced up at him uneasily.

"I assumed you might, being the one and only Spot Conlon and all." His smirk widened.

"Sorry, sweet'art. That's all I got." He reached for her now to help her up but Kat cringed away from him. He pulled back to look at her.

"Can I just… keep my clothes on and wash them too?" There was no way to look at him as she asked.

Spot's voice dripped with amusement.

"If ya' wanna' sleep in wet clothes, sure darlin'. An' I figured dat's what ya'd do. Unless ya' 'ad somethin' else in mind…"

"No, no, of course not." She spat quickly. He watched her squirm a minute before reaching for her again, and this time she let him pull her to her feet. He moved to the pump and stood waiting for her to get in. Gnawing on her lip unnervingly, she approached hesitantly. She stood, looking at it, and then up at Spot whose eyes twinkled out at her. He nodded towards the barrel. Kat sighed hugely and lowered herself in carefully, fully clothed and scowling. Spot pumped water for her from behind where she couldn't see him and she pulled gingerly at her knotted hair with shaky hands. The water was frigid and left her trembling uncontrollably so that she was almost incapacitated. And she was sore to boot. There was just a small gash on the back of her head, not too deep but longer than she had anticipated, and the cold water stung. She couldn't help whimpering softly when she rubbed too hard. The water stopped pumping and Spot hands appeared suddenly under her arms. He lifted her up and set her, dripping, on the floor. When he came around in front of her he took her face in his hands and studied her again.

"Ya' look bettah." He decided to Kat's embarrassment. She mumbled a chattering thank you.

"Now le's gettcha' outta' dose clothes. I got some ya' kin use."

**A/N**: So, did ya' like? Let me know, please, I love feedback! Do you think Spot's accent is too confusing? Review, review!


	3. Chapter 3

"'Ey, Poke up, doll." Rumbled a deep masculine voice as Kat slept on the verge of consciousness. She could only just hear the sound as it persisted beside her; she wanted to wake up, if only to tell the voice to shut it. Wasn't it obvious how tired she was? Didn't anyone know what she'd been through in the past few hours?

When her eyes finally opened, she felt as though she had just closed them. Surely Spot Conlon had just lent her his spare set of clothes and left the room, smirking, while she changed. Surely he'd left her in the bottom bunk of his bed to flick out the light only moments ago.

Now Kat stared, relatively startled, into a foreign face that blinked brown eyes at her. Although she was surprised to see him, she reacted calmly from the outside. She had confidence in Spot's words, and he had assured her that she would not be bothered by his boys. So she lay on her back, with her head turned to gawk stupidly at the boy who was still crouched by the bed gawking stupidly at her.

"Whaddaya' say, I'm Cozen." He offered at last in the same gravelly voice, holding out a hand to her. She smiled guardedly, turning on her side and propping up on one arm to shake his presented hand.

"I'm Kat." She replied, and he moved away from the bed so that she could stand up. This proved to be quite a feat. Still sore from the night before, a hand to her tender head proved that her hair was still wet and therefore she must not have gotten to sleep very long.

"Spot tol' me ta' come gettcha'. Papes 'ill be rollin' soon." Cozen said, glancing around the room to avoid looking at the new girl. A girl. In Brooklyn. Most of the boys thought Spot was crazy and he was one of them- she wouldn't last a week. Kat could tell that he didn't want to be there with her, and she knew that she'd be moving slowly that morning.

"You can leave," She said, "and tell Spot that I'm up."

He looked at her- studied her briefly with a flick of his eyes- before telling her to hurry and stepping out the door. She lowered herself back onto the bed to hold her head in her hands. Newsie life bummed. Only when she looked down did she realize that she was still wearing Spot's pants. And that she felt like a clown. His shirt fit fine- a little big but not falling off of her as the pants were. Not really caring whether or not it bothered him at this point, the shirt stayed on and Kat changed back into her still- wet pants. There were water spots on the shirt too, from where her camisole had dripped onto it. All in all, the day was already looking pretty crummy. And damp.

When she inched tentatively from the side door she'd watched Cozen exit through, she was startled and a little embarrassed to find herself in the bunkroom full of newsboys in various stages of dress. She would've ducked back into Spot's room, but a few of the boys had already seen her. An imposing blond directly in front of her straightened from tying his shoes and surveyed her with no attempt to conceal his disapproval. Although he glowered at her with pale blue eyes, they did little to rattle her after the impact of Spot's unnerving gaze. He approached her slowly, his angular jaw clenched, and stopped a few feet away. He was massive up close. Well over six feet, she decided as she craned her neck to look at his face. The room began to quiet as those around them noticed the confrontation. Kat saw Cozen rising from where he'd been waiting on a nearby bunk and begin to approach them. The guy in front of her pulled a hand back and for a split second she honestly thought that he was going to hit her. She winced ever so slightly as he spit in his hand and held it out to her. Oh. Spit-shake. The room seemed dead-quiet now; Kat knew the importance of the gesture. She spit in her own palm and clapped her hand to his. His eyes lightened as he shook with her. Then he pulled his hand away and stepped back, re-evaluating her.

"I'm Kat." She said softly. She looked up at him expectantly but he scoffed and walked away. He joined a group of his buddies, who were also scoffing, and they seemed to snicker about her for a moment, all still scoffing. That was nothing less than infuriating.

"Who was that?" she asked Cozen when he reached her side.

"Vir." He said. "That's his brother, Bane over there with him." She looked up to see the indicated brother staring at her with an expression similar to what his brother's had been. Very similar.

"Are they twins?" she asked, looking back to Cozen who nodded.

"C'mon. Spot's waiting." He ordered.

"Spot's waiting?" she squeaked. But he didn't answer, instead giving her a little nudge towards the stairs on the other end of the room. After stumbling from his shove and her own compromised balance, she began the walk through the hostile bunkroom. Every face she saw mimicked Vir's, so that in the end she stared intently at her feet as she made her way along. Because of this, she noticed right away when a pair of shoes entered her line of vision and blocked her course. She glanced up quickly at curly hair that was more brown than blonde but still light, and hazel eyes. Their owner was light-skinned and regarding her with suspicion rather than hatred. It seemed as though he wanted to say something but wasn't sure how to put it considering the company they were in.

"Whaddaya' want?" Cozen demanded, tired of being prevented from completing his task.

"Jis' ta' meet da' new goil." was the reply. "I'm Peter." He added, not bothering with a handshake of any sort. Still trembling slightly from her encounter with Brooklyn thus far, Kat nodded to him but said nothing.

"Yer name's Kat, yeah?" He prodded.

"Yeah, Pete, her name's Kat. Now bug off. Spot wants ta' see 'er."

Peter smiled faintly and stepped aside without shifting his gaze. Kat however, averted her eyes to the floor again and made it to the door without further incident. She sighed hugely once they were in the hall and it sounded as though Cozen did the same. They were at the top of a narrow stair case that dropped into the main room at the bottom; the two of them made their way down, Cozen taking the lead. The room was now mostly full of boys, Kat and Cozen having been followed out of the bunkroom. Spot was there in the midst of it all, somehow managing to tower over all of the giants surrounding him, he himself being just barely at six feet. He seemed to sense immediately that Kat was in the room and that she was looking at him, because he made eye contact with her instantly and winked. Despite the fact that she saw nothing funny, she flashed him a smile in return, coupled with reddened checks, enjoying his reaction. He didn't look surprised- that was below him. But he smirked and his eyes widened slightly as though challenging her cheer. Cozen noticed him just then and nodded him over. Smacking the shoulder of the brute he'd been talking to, Spot excused himself from the conversation. Kat tore her eyes away from his approaching figure and tried to ready herself for the onslaught of his charm. Cozen was dismissed from them, leaving promptly for company he deemed more desirable.

"Mornin', Sweets. Sleep well?" Spot asked when he was gone, leaning casually to one side and admiring her in his shirt and her own sopping pants. She tried to sound nonchalant in her reply.

"Mhmm."

He put a finger under her chin and lifted it so that he could see her face- Spot Conlon didn't stoop for anyone- and all she could manage was a flustered smile.

"Why don' ya' come wid me." He said softly, so that she could just hear him over the din in the room, and proffered his arm to her.

"Le's go somewhere… quieter, huh? Jus' you 'n me; so we kin tawk." He hinted. Kat had intended to politely decline his offer, but the way he was looking at her there was no way to refuse. Her heart stuttered through a few irregular beats when she met his eyes and all she could do was allow her arm to be pulled through his as he led her out of the lodging house.

"Don't we have to, you know, sell?" she stammered when they reached the street and turned towards the docks. Spot didn't respond in any way, even to indicate that he had heard her inquiry. Instead, he pulled her up to a small fishing shack in front of which he released her. She blinked at it without any understanding whatsoever until he laughed quietly and pulled the door open for her with a sweeping gesture.

"Aftah you, Princess." He drawled.

The first thing she noticed when she stepped inside was how stifling it was. It was warm outside anyway, but with the moisture and cramped conditions of the shack the heat was amplified. Kat sucked in a few mouthfuls of air to assure herself that she was still able to breathe is spite of the humidity. Her damp clothes stuck to her uncomfortably.

Aside from her and Spot, the hut held various dock-related things such as fishing hooks and nets. There was a cot in the corner, looking pitifully misplaced, that didn't appear to be serving much purpose.

Feeling him behind her and rather uncomfortable with him being there, Kat turned back to Spot. He was slouched against a wooden chest, the door cracked behind him to let in what salty breeze it could. They were quiet for a moment, Kat listening to the seagulls outside and imagining how nice the breeze must feel.

"So ya' met my boys dis moinin'." Spot began. "An' dey were less den hospitable, I imagine." He waited for her to state the affirmative before continuing.

"I t'ought I'd get a few t'ings straight. I like fer us ta' be on da' same page."

Kat stepped back as far as she could, which in the confines of the shack wasn't far, to avoid being so close to him. The knowledge that she was in the presence of one of the greatest womanizers in New York made her uneasy. Even without intention he troubled her. And it was certainly with intention that he shifted towards her now as he spoke again.

"Yer in Brooklyn an' Brooklyn ain't widout reputation." He swallowed and looked at her purposefully, seeming to hint at something other than what he was saying; perhaps insinuating that he was Brooklyn and referring to his personal reputation. Kat blushed deeply; she felt the cot dig into the back of her legs as she stepped back again. "If ya' can't handle it 'ere, ya' kin leave. I'll be da' one ta' let ya' know if dat needs ta' happen. An' don' t'ink dat it's gonna be easier on ya' cos youse a goil. It ain't gonna be." He finished.

"Oh. Well, I don't think you need to worry about me- thanks for the concern though, it's touching." Although somewhat at a loss for words, she was never at a loss for sarcasm. The words came out in a nervous rush. Spot raised both eyebrows to her unexpected response and she knew that it had been out of line. So she muttered an apology and kicked at the dirt floor with her boot to give her something else to direct her attention to.

"I don' wanna' 'ave ta' worry 'bout ya'. Hope ya' kin take care a' yerself." His demeanor seemed different- not suggestive like it had been but solemn now. He was carrying out his leader-ly duties. Trying to avoid looking at him any more than necessary was the decided key as her reply was made.

"Is that all you wanted?" urgent lightening of tone upon seeing his face. "I mean, should I go now? Get a start selling?" her voice was quiet.

The corner of his mouth pulled up as he switched moods again.

"Sure, Love, I adn't realized ya' was so eager ta' get ta' woik. Allow me."

He stepped to the side so that she had to brush past him to leave and smiled appreciatively when she did so. Kat walked purposefully out into the morning and was halfway down the dock when she realized that she had no idea where she was going. She stopped and waited for Spot to reach her before strolling along beside him towards her first day as a Brooklyn newsie.

**A/N: **Hey guys, as always, hope you enjoyed! And, as always, drop me a line to let me know what you think! I love to hear your input!

By the way: Is it just me, or does the band Journey remind anyone of Spot? I dunno, but everytime I listen to them, which is quite often I might add, I have this picture montage of Spot playing in my head. hahaha maybe I'm just crazy...


	4. Chapter 4

The sun was sinking towards the early stages of evening, not yet resting on the horizon but making the descent. The streets of Brooklyn were still busy, they were still hostile, and they still held a weary Kat who had yet to sell her last paper. Her day had not been especially awful; neither had it been exactly red letter. She had been pleased to see that she could still sell the 45 papers she had so recently sold in the Bronx. Or the 44 rather. After her talk with Spot that morning, she'd bought her papers amid threatening glances and high-tailed it to the only corner she knew. Her customers had all seemed surprised to find a girl selling newspapers under the cabbie hat, but when they'd gotten over themselves had been pleasant enough. Kat had nearly crossed paths with a few other newsies, but had succeeded in staying out of their ways.

A stiff-looking business man walked briskly up to her and held out a penny. Kat handed him his paper silently and took the pay, glancing into his eyes as he turned and hurried off. Now she could go back home to Spot. She snickered at the idea of living with Spot Conlon. The whole situation was amusing to her- it had to be or she was likely to go insane.

Hands stuffed deep into her change-filled pockets, she turned the direction the business man hadn't gone and continued at an equally hastened pace. Although she was paying close attention, Kat didn't notice the other newsie until he was right beside her.

"You're da new goil." He said matter-of-factly. He didn't look at her when he spoke but straight ahead as she did. He had sharp features and black eyes that shifted from side to side with uncertainty. His physique was typical for a Brooklynite- broad and muscular- the only difference being that he couldn't have been more than 5'6".

"Yes, I am." Her confirmation was tentative. He stopped abruptly, grabbing her arm so that she would stop too. Kat coiled instinctively away from him and his grip loosened momentarily as though to reassure her of an escape. Rather than attacking as her mind insisted he would, he extended his hand.

"William."

"Oh," she mumbled in embarrassment. "I'm Kat. But you already knew that." She reached out intending to shake his hand, but when their palms met, William raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. He then proceeded to blush madly and resume his vigorous walk, plunging fists deep into his pockets. Kat was left standing as she had been, blinking after him in surprise.

"Are you coming?" he walked backwards to call to her. She jogged to catch up.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"The docks. It's hot an I wanna swim. You don' hafta follow 'less you wanna."

"Will Spot be there?" Kat didn't want to be anywhere he wasn't unless she had to be. William shrugged and led her around a corner, the docks coming into view. The bay whispered invitingly with waves that lifted diamonds on their crests. Most of the newsies were there, Kat supposed, in the water and sprawled on the docks themselves. Piles of clothes littered the ground around various crates. Spot sat atop one of these, leaning against another like a lounge chair and looking petulant. Even from behind Kat recognized the twins from earlier that day, standing before him as servants, he a king on his throne.

"You're gonna' swim?" William asked. She turned to look at him as he kicked his pants off to the side. Quickly averting her eyes from his long- john-clad body, she rushed her eyes up to his, blushing.

"I don't think I will, thanks." The events from the night before drifted back to her, and the fact that she was still wearing Spot's shirt. No way that was coming off.

"It's hot. No one will mind." he persisted.

"I'd really rather not. But thank you for the invitation. I need to talk to Spot anyway."

"Maybe later," William warned. Kat followed his eyes to where Spot sat. "He don' look too approachable right now." She shrugged and slipped past him. Mumbles rippled around her like the water; she felt eyes following her. Cozen was the only one she recognized, and he didn't seem too happy to be recognizing her. She hurried up to Spot. Vir was saying something, and Spot's brow furrowed. They stopped talking when she stumbled up.

"Do ya' mind?" Bane spat as Vir turned hate-filled eyes on her. Kat bit her lip and began inching back the way she'd come, unsure of how to proceed. Spot's eyes on hers made her stop. He nodded her over and offered a hand to help her up onto the crates. Surprised at the gesture, she accepted and clambered up next to him in a way she wished could have been graceful. She was embarrassed by how much weight he'd been left to support although his face hadn't changed at all.

"Spot." Bane objected but was silenced by the eyes on him now. Spot signaled them away. Their parting glances were less than friendly. Kat sunk unintentionally into his side. Her jaw clenched. Spot was watching her; he studied her impassively before nudging her in the side with his fingertips to remind her that she was cowering. Kat immediately straightened.

"Ya did a'ight taday, Babe." His mood was much altered from what it had been that morning in the fishing shack. "Ya sell pretty well an' I assume ya didn' run inta' any trouble or I woulda' had ta come get ya out."

"How do you know?" she asked, momentarily forgetting herself. His expression was incredulous.

"I'm Spot Conlon."

"Right," Kat muttered. "Silly me."

He turned away from her again to survey his territory. Kat leaned forward to rest elbows on knees and pretended not to feel awkward.

"Is everything alright, Spot?" she asked presently, remembering the twins and the way he'd looked.

"It's fine. None a' yer business."

"Oh, of course not, I just wondered. You looked upset before."

The corner of his mouth pulled up for the first time since that morning.

"Yer forgettin dat I don' get upset."

She sighed deeply and decided that Spot was clearly not in a helpful mood. They sat in silence for some time as she mulled over her day and watched the boys in front of them. It was a strange thing to see the Brooklyn newsies "play". Most of their frolicking ended in tussles, though none so extreme as to require Spot's interference. The sun was just beginning to set when the majority of them dressed and headed back to the warehouse. Kat was waiting for Spot to get up so that she could walk back with him. It would feel strange and disrespectfully self-governing to leave alone. Spot's expression was emotionless when she glanced back at him from the corner of her eye. He didn't appear to have budged in the hour or so that they'd been sitting there, although Kat had changed positions at least eight times. He looked as though he'd been carved from stone and dropped beside her. It was silly, but the more she thought this, the more she convinced herself that the real Spot had left hours ago and this was some sculpture left to kid her into thinking he wanted to sit with her. Surely the real Spot would have something more important to do. Surely the real Spot would _blink. _

Kat cleared her throat and leaned towards him.

"Spot?" she spluttered and proceeded to feel ridiculous when he turned his head to look at her.

He waited an awkwardly long amount of time before grumbling a reply.

"What?" he asked. His irritated mood seemed to persist and she felt uncomfortable and foolish.

"Nothing." She answered quickly, and that was the end of their conversation. Not until they were back in their room did he say anything, and then it was a mumbled response to her 'goodnight' as he left her to fall asleep alone. Where he went at night she never knew.


	5. Chapter 5

When she shuffled into line the next morning, Kat wondered when, if ever, she would be accepted by her fellow Brooklynites. She didn't demand intimate friendships, only expressions that didn't threaten bodily harm.

She was exasperatingly far from the head of the line, which meant additional time in endangered territory. Even Spot's assumed presence did little to comfort her. He was stonily stoic as he'd been at the docks the evening before and she wondered whether this or his insolent and smugly charming self was more common. She wasn't sure yet which she preferred.

There were snickers coming from behind her and although she couldn't hear the muttered words exactly, she felt certain that they were about her. Kat pulled her neck down so that the base of her hat touched the collar of her shirt, wishing that she were a turtle so that her head might disappear entirely. Unfortunately she had not this skill, and when a hand tapped her shoulder she was forced to turn around. She didn't recognize the boys behind her, but from their sinisterly gleeful expressions she was about to.

"'Ey Doll face." said the one in front with a leering smile. He had long black hair that fell over his face and stuck out well under his hat. Perfect white teeth shown in his smile; a scar marked his broad face along the right side. It pulled down the corner of his eye slightly. For some reason, he reminded her of a pirate. She made no move to return his greeting but watched him guardedly.

"What was the name again?" He asked. Kat swallowed and dug her nails into already sweaty palms.

"Kat."

"Kat? Like… what? A bobcat? Are you feral?" he added suggestively. The boys behind him chuckled. Pirate glanced back at them before leaning forward with a widening grin.

Partly because she didn't know what it meant, and partly because she didn't like the way he'd asked it, she remained silent. She glanced around to see if any of the other newsies could be of any help to her. Spot wasn't there. Neither was William or Peter. She had been hoping that their lack of hostility would come in handy.

"Cat got your tongue?" Pirate sneered and his posse burst out in laughter. Kat fixed him with the fiercest scowl she could muster and was pleased to see brief hesitation. But he quickly recovered.

"So that was the answer to my previous question?" He said it like he didn't expect an answer, just to get a reaction from her. But she still didn't know what the question had meant, so she stayed sulky and quiet.

"So, Kat, excuse me for not introducing myself. I'm Gibbs. This is Tinker, Coal, and Crop." She didn't bother looking at the faces of the other three.

"It's so nice that you're here with us." Gibbs continued. "We've never had a girl working with us before. Or living with us for that matter. But you know Conlon- he always was one for convenience." This comment earned another round of guffaws from his cronies and a grimace from Kat.

"Excuse me?" she squeaked, so offended that her words spilled out before she could remember her aloof approach and stop them. Gibbs' laughter died out but there was still pleasure on his face.

"I bet he's been a real gentleman, huh? I'm sure he's been perfectly accommodating." His superior use of language was maddening. Only by his snide tone did she know to be infuriated.

"You sharin' a bed with him yet? We always wonder how he does it- blondes, brunettes, shy ones, smart ones, mean ones, and older ones, but all of 'em stunning. And somehow he manages to keep 'em as long as he wants. You'll tell us, won't you? What it is that he finally does to bed you? We're so curious."

At this point they were all howling with laughter. Kat was clenching her teeth and her fists, blushing up to her hairline with angry tears pricking in her eyes. She felt the familiar twitch of muscle that would send her fist flying into his stupid, scarred face. She longed to have some witty comeback, but she was so angry she hadn't a clue about what to say. So Gibbs went on.

"I helped bring you in the other night, you know. You weren't very heavy so I'd believe it if you told us he forced himself on you. But he's never had a girl who wasn't happy to have him. And you were a pretty good little runner, I'll give you that. Maybe you can hold your own…" He was thinking more to himself now, although aloud, for her benefit. "I just don't know what to think." His incredulity was forged with contempt, his eyes alight with the thrill of a good game.

Behind Kat, the man waiting to sell her papers asked how many she wanted without looking up from his ledger.

"50." She growled, adding five more to her usual number because she had an audience.

Then she hit him.

Gibbs' nose made a satisfying crunch when her fist sailed into it, backed by all the force her little body could pack. His breath whooshed out of his chest in surprise as his head snapped back. The laughter of his friends was immediately cut off.

There was a complete and heavy silence as Gibbs looked up from where his nose dripped.

"So you've already slept with him then."

Something like a snarl leaked from Kat's lips as she dove at him for a second time. In her mind, he didn't stand a chance. In reality, she was asking to die. Gibbs own roar sounded and he met her head-on. Kat's yelp of pain attracted the attention of the 5 remaining people who had yet to realize that there was a fight going on, and everyone in the distribution center stared on in a kind of shock that rarely plagued Brooklyn residents.

"Enough." Spot's voice cracked like a whip through the masses. He strolled forward as Gibbs and Kat pulled away from each other. Kat's lip was split and a scab on her cheek had been reopened. Her hat was on the ground; her hair hung around her face in knots. Her chest heaved with Gibbs' who was experiencing similar pain with a broken nose.

They glowered at one another as Spot stopped in front of them.

"What." He demanded. "What da hell is goin on 'ere?" He looked back and forth between the two of them until he realized that their silence was going to persist. His eyes glowed; his nostrils flared.

"There isn't any trouble here, Spot." Gibbs quipped up. He was much-accustomed to the warning signs of eminent explosion.

"Kat an' I just had a misunderstanding. She isn't aware of how things work around here."

Kat's eyes narrowed.

"Yeah, shoih, Gibbs," Spot replied. "Enlighten me."

"The young lady here was simply embarrassed by the implications of your relationship."

"The hell I was!" she yelled and sprung once again at his face. She was airborne when steel arms fettered around her waist and yanked her back.

"I said enough." Spot's deadly voice was barely above a whisper in her ear. Kat hung limply against his chest, her feet having given out from under her,drooping against his arms. Her head lolled back as she tried to catch her breath, her cheek resting in the crook of his neck.

"Get sellin'." He ordered, and his newsies scattered. Gibbs lowered his eyes and hurried by in hopes of avoiding Spot's rebuke. Faster than Kat would've dreamed was possible, Spot had torn his arms from around her waist and thrown Gibbs up into the wall with his fists in tight balls on his chest. Nose to nose, Spot hissed in his face.

"Consider dat goil mah property, Gibbs, an' treat 'er dat way. Dere won' be any mo' trouble." His voice lowered so that she had to strain to hear.

"What I plan ta do wid 'er an' whose bed she ends up in is my business. Keep yer nose out of it. Or it'll end up busted again."

Gibbs nodded.

"Yeah, Spot. Fine." He nodded, and slinked off when Spot let him go. Spot kept his back to her for a moment before turning slowly with accusatory eyes.

"Yer turnin' out ta be moah trouble den yer worth." He asserted. Kat laughed once without humor.

"I'll do better." Her tone was lightly sarcastic. Spot smirked for the first time since the first day and looked at her knowingly.

"Looks like ya' need ta start suckin' up ta me, huh?"

This time her laugh was sincere.

"Don't hold your breath."

Spot stepped around her to pull her papers off of the counter and sling them up on his shoulder. His own papers he kept under his other arm.

"C'mon." He ordered. Kat tossed her money onto the counter and hurried after him.

"Are you selling with me today?" She asked incredulously as she caught up to him.

"No, you're sellin' wid me." He turned his head to the side and winked at her.

"How come?" She really didn't want to sell with him. Although she usually did alright, she was afraid of feeling self-conscious with such a master newsie at her side.

Spot raised an eyebrow at her and his mouth straightened into a line.

"'Cause I said I was. Is dere a problem wid dat?"

She shook her head as he smacked her papers into her stomach.

"No problem. I don't mind."

The smirk was back on his face and he stalled his walk to let her catch up.

"Good." He rumbled in her ear, stooping a bit to accommodate the height difference. "Ya get da benefit of obsoivin' me no charge." Kat pushed at his arm and wrinkled her nose as she laughed at him. She definitely preferred this side of him now, obnoxious as it could be. She followed him to a street corner she didn't recognize, hoping he realized she'd be lost if he left her. He turned back to her with a mischievous grin on his face.

"What?" she asked.

"Just play along, aight?"

She regarded him with mounting suspicion.

"Okay…."

"What kinda' actor are ya'? Kin ya keep up?" Spot prodded, his eyes sparkling with child-like excitement. Kat couldn't help but laugh at his exuberance.

"I think I can play along." She assured him, smiling with unexpected fondness at her new leader. Having been so assured, he stashed his papers off to the side behind a building. When he turned back around his face was terrifying. His brow was furrowed over tumultuous eyes and his mouth contorted into a grimace. He stalked up to her and grabber her arm, shaking her violently so that she dropped her papers.

"How stupid can you get?!" He hollered in her face. "Ya don' know notin'!" Kat blinked in surprise and tried to step back but his hands held her firmly where she was.

"Answer me! Ya' tell me right now! I ain't playin' no games wid you!" But he was playing games, she realized. For some reason or another he wanted to stage a fight. She could manage that.

"I'm sorry." She whimpered, tears pooling in her eyes and her lip quivering.

"I can't tell you, I made a promise."

Spot's stormy face became stormier- something she hadn't thought possible.

"Promise 'er not. Yer gonna' tell me!" He was in her face, hands tight around the tops of her arms and screaming. Everyone around them was staring.

"I can't!" Kat persisted. Spot reared back and let his hand shoot forward, snapping across her cheek. She stared in shock. Her face didn't hurt. Somehow he'd stopped his hand just in time to avoid inflicting any real pain. But to the on-lookers, he'd hit her. Now he scooped up his papers and stormed off down the street. This was unexpected. She still wasn't sure why they'd just put on their little show and now he was gone. Her answer came bustling up a minute later.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" asked a middle-aged woman.

Kat put her puppy dog eyes back in place and nodded forlornly.

"Yes." She sniffed. The woman looked from side to side- strangers were not supposed to be so kind in Brooklyn.

"Well, here- let me at least by a paper." Oh. Spot Conlon was a brilliant, brilliant man. They made the transaction and Kat slumped to the curb where she was approached by six more women. She was chuckling maniacally to herself when the last women walked away. That took care of the additional papers she'd bought that day. She looked around for Spot but didn't see him nearby. Brilliant but stupid. Now she was stuck on that corner until he came back.

* * *

A couple hours later she heard him behind her.

"About time you got here." she was joking when she spun around. But it wasn't Spot. Gibbs stooped in front of her with distrust coloring his every feature. Kat felt the smile slide from her face. He took a step towards her. Kat took a step back. They continued on in this manner halfway across the street before Gibbs put an end to it.

"Why do you keep doing that?!" He exclaimed in agitation.

"Oh, I'm sorry- am I _bothering _you?" She spat. "I'm not allowed to get into any more trouble."

"I'm not here to be trouble." He replied. And he didn't take any more steps forward. "I wanted to say…" he glanced around. " I wanted to say that I was impressed by the way you handled yourself earlier. You sure can pack a punch." He added. Kat laughed once.

"Thanks. So can you." He nodded his thanks. They stood that way, in the middle of the street regarding each other with caution before Gibbs straightened and began to back away.

"This doesn't make us friends. Don't expect me to like you or anything." He warned. She felt her face fall though she wished she could keep from reacting.

"Fine with me." She replied. And Gibbs left.

This time it _was _Spot behind her. He stalked right up to her so that his chest pressed into her back and she jumped before spinning around.

"Oh! Hi. You're back."

He grinned in amusement.

"'Course I'm back. How'd our performance woik out?"

"I sold six papers thanks to you. So here." She held up half of the money she'd made. Spot took it without reservation and crammed it into his pocket. For the first time Kat noticed that he wasn't carrying any papers.

"Are you done selling?" She asked. And when he nodded, "All your papers? How many do you sell?"

He smirked and puffed out his chest.

"75."

With wide eyes she took a step back and looked him up and down reverently.

" Impressive."

He laughed and looked at the sizeable stack still under her arm.

"You've got all dat still ta' go?"

She scowled.

"Yes."

"Give some 'ere." He ordered, and when she gave him half he strolled off again. Kat watched him go; she followed his lithe stride with her eyes, admiring the graceful way he carried himself. Chuckling aloud at her own girlish thoughts, she turned back to the street and resumed hawking headlines.

* * *

Three hours later she bought some bread from a street vendor and sprawled in the shade of a nearby factory to enjoy it. As she was eating, a man burst from the factory door, dragging a young girl by the arm. He wore a huge apron streaked with filth, and his face was grimy with dirt and sweat.

"Get out you lousy little thief!" He yelled as he tossed the young girl into the street. She couldn't have been more than ten but she pulled herself to her feet and scampered away with tears running down her cheeks. Kat felt her face contort in concern. She considered going after the child to make sure that she was alright, but the man was still outside and he scared her. When she looked back at him, he was also looking at her.

"Hey." He called, and Kat was horrified to see that he was yelling at her. "Hey, kid! Come 'ere!" She slipped to her feet and took a few steps back, shifting to the balls of her feet.

"C'mon, kid. Don't stand there all day, get over here!"

"Get back ta' woik, Ben!" came a familiar voice from across the street as Spot sauntered up. "Dis one's wid me."

The man called Ben grimaced but nodded to him.

"Sure, Spot. Sorry about that- see you around."

"You kin count on dat." He affirmed as he reached her side. He watched Ben warily as he went back inside the factory. Kat looked up at Spot. He looked down, into her eyes, but said nothing. His eyes were liquid cobalt, warm and fluid and exhilarating.

"What just happened?" she asked finally, when his eyes brought thoughts to her mind that made her glad he couldn't hear them.

"I don' wancha' sellin on dis street no moah. Got dat?" He asked. His voice was serious but his face passive. She nodded obediently and looked down to brush at the invisible crumbs on her pants.

Spot held out a fistful of coins.

"From yer papes." He explained when she raised an eyebrow. "You done sellin' yet?"

"Yeah, Spot, I'm done."

"Good. Les' go 'ome." He turned in the last direction she would've picked, proving that she was completely lost, and began the walk back to the warehouse. Kat scuttled after him, and as they walked, she began to wonder about her future in Brooklyn. She was so unsure about why Spot had chosen for her to stay in the first place. The boys didn't like her and although Spot seemed to, Kat knew his reputation and that he probably only tolerated her. Brooklyn was a harsh and terrifying place. She was glad to be with him as they walked the streets. The factories spewed billows of smoke and the clay buildings absorbed the heat of the sun so that the brush of a building would do everything but burn your skin. In spite of all this, Kat liked her new job. Her old life was not something she wanted to return to. For the first time since she'd left, she thought of Kyle and wondered if he was looking for her. If he were, she reasoned, he would never think to look for her as a newsie in Brooklyn.

"Spot?" she began hesitantly. He didn't look at her but tilted his head to the side. " Do you… I mean, can I…" She cleared her throat and tried again. "I like it here, Spot. Can I please stay?" He laughed, with a tinge of condescendence, as the warehouse came into view.

"I asked yata woik fa' me, remembah? Coise ya kin stay. Yer sleepin in ma bed." He laughed again and she snickered too.

"I guess that was a stupid question."

Spot looked at her in agreement. She elbowed his arm.

"'Ey! I let dat slide oilier but dere won' be any touchin a me like dat. In dat violent way."

They laughed together, Spot harder when he slung an arm over her shoulder and she jumped and looked up in shock. But she didn't shrug his arm off-she wasn't sure if she wanted to- until they were entering the warehouse. Then she slipped out from under his arm and opened a side door to enter. Spot didn't seem at all phased when she glanced back at him. He winked at her and shooed her away to talk to the twins.

****** Thanks to the people who have reviewed so far! I'm always anxious to hear what you think so keep it up :) Love you guys!


	6. Chapter 6

It was later, indeed an embarrassingly long time after the fact, that she realized what had been chafing in the furthest corner of her mind all day. The realization bothered her as it occurred to her, quite randomly as she sat at the window, that she was not bothered. While mulling over that morning's happenings, Gibbs' words echoed in her mind, a few of them finally plastering themselves to the big picture that was her life. Of course Spot's loose reputation was no mystery to her. Of course she was aware of it, although she'd seen no evidence of it thus far. And the possibility that Spot's intent for her was anything but noble felt so unlikely. He was Spot Conlon, King of Brooklyn, of New York even, nothing less than common royalty, wielder of oozing charm, unparalleled charisma, and subjugating eyes. She was just Kat- a street rat in ill-fitting boys' clothes, barely managing to stay afloat in the rough waters of Brooklyn. She had so little experience in the art of relationships as Spot practiced them. She had no appealing attributes she was sure. Certainly not to him. And Spot wasn't one to beat around the bush- surely if he meant more from her he would have made it clear. His advances had been few and harmless enough. Kat suspected behavior of the sort was like second nature to him now; he meant nothing by it.

In spite of all this, the comments Gibbs had made should have been taken more seriously. She'd spent the entire day with her leader and not once given it a second thought. She should have made him suffer. He should have paid for his reputation.

Kat stood resolutely from her seat at the window and was halfway to the door before common sense stopped her. What did she plan to say to him? And was anything worth upsetting him? Spot was her life-line. Kat couldn't afford to make another enemy, certainly not one as prominent as Spot. But rules had to be made. Lines had to be drawn.

She turned again for the door, wrenching it open and marching past a few stray newsies strewn over their bunks. Peter was among them and he jumped up to walk beside her.

"Hey Kat."

She was happy to see him. He smiled at her in a sincerely amiable way. But his timing left much to be desired.

"Hi Peter, how's it rollin'?"

"Where's the fire?" he joked, grinning at her.

Kat sighed. "I need to discuss some important things with Spot." she replied in a clipper manner, hoping she wouldn't have an audience when she confronted him. She still wasn't sure what she was going to say; hopefully something witty and cunning would come to her when the time was right. Peter stopped abruptly and snagged her arm.

"Excuse me." she scowled up at him.

"Now's a bad time."

"Bad time?"

"To talk to Spot." He wasn't smiling anymore, he just looked... guilty. Kat narrowed her eyes.

"When *is* a good time to talk to Spot? When isn't he busy, Peter? Why does everyone keep telling me that I can't talk to him when I want to - do I need to be *sent* for?" she remembered bitterly the day before when William had tried to keep her from him at the docks. Peter made no indication that he intended to comment.

"Let go of Me." she demanded. Her mouth puckered into a line as she tugged against him.

"Kat, calm down." Peter's eyes were gentle but his lips twitched into an amused reproach. She ignored him, struggling further so that he reached forward to pin both of her arms to her sides.

"Stop, Honey, I'm hurting you." he apologized. His fingers did dig into her arms, squeezing tighter when she continued to pull away.

"Are not." she growled through clenched teeth.

"I can see it on your face. Now stop fighting and I'll let you go."

"To Spot?"

He pulled his hands away and moved to position himself between her and the doorway.

"Spot's busy. Trust me, Honey; you don't wanna see him right now." His words cooled in her ears, earnest and refreshing. When Spot called her 'honey' it was smug and condescending. When Peter said it there was affection in his eyes. But it was amused affection. How irksome. And if she didn't talk to Spot as soon as possible she'd loose the nerve. She took a measured step back and surveyed Peter unhappily. He tweaked her cheek.

"Aw, don't be mad, Honey, I gotta' follow orders. Anything you gotta' say can wait- better learn that quick. You better learn Spot-time. It's never the same as yours or mine."

"Orders?" she picked that word out from among the others. "He specifically asked you to keep me away?"

"Spot never asks. Like I said- orders."

"Well, what's he doing that I can't be apart of?" she demanded, stabbing an accusatory finger at him. Peter glanced over his shoulder to the stairs. This opportunity would do just fine for her purposes.

"Kat!" Peter swatted at her as she skipped around him and through the doorway. She leapt from his grasp, landing heavily on the landing that split the staircase. Before Peter could follow, she scrambled to her feet and down the stairs that remained.

The front room was crowded but Spot was easily recognizable. He was the insolent one with the blonde in his lap. The blonde. She nestled in his chest, lips to his neck, legs crossed over his. Spot himself was staring straight at her. He must've heard she and Peter on the stairs. His eyes narrowed. Kat felt her jaw clench. Peter came to an abrupt halt behind her.

"So... he was hiding her from me?" she asked hollowly and without understanding. Where seconds before she'd been hoping to draw lines, now she felt that there was some claim to be made. This was her home now. She couldn't be expected to share it with Spot's harem.

"Are you jealous?" Peter's question was disinterested, unaffected. She shook her head stubbornly. He nodded.

"I can see it in your face."

"I'm not jealous of *her*!" she bit back bitterly, spitting the pronoun like a curse word. Peter tugged at her arm.

"C'mon, Kat. Let's go back upstairs. Wanna' play cards?" He sounded anxious. Did he really believe that she could be so easily distracted? The blonde with Spot turned her head just then and caught Kat's gaze.

"Who's she?" she sneered at Spot, who looked at Peter's face and the hand that was clamped on Kat's arm. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she saw him roll his eyes.

"Nobody, Baby. Don' wo'y bout it." He met her eyes as he spoke, and the way he said the words implied that he meant them in two different ways. Kat swallowed. She took a step back.

"Does she live here?" the blonde persisted.

"Yeah. Jus one a me newsies."

The blonde turned a scathing expression on Kat; surveyed her up and down.

"Oh. Just a newsie."

Kat turned immediately on her heel and marched back towards the stairs.

"He wasn't hiding her from you, Kat." Peter hurried to follow.

"He was hiding you from her."

"Didn't realize I was such a scandal." she growled. Peter seemed to read her mind.

"Don't leave."

She ignored him. Commotion started across the room behind them and an unfamiliar voice called Spot's name.

"Hoid ya' gotta' new newsie- A goil. What's dat about, Conlon?"

Kat turned around to see who the speaker was. He was tall and lean with brown hair and eyes, a traditionally handsome face, a cowboy hat hanging down his back, a red bandana around his neck. Spot stood to his feet, dumping the blonde from his lap. Kat snickered. He whispered something in her ear and nodded her out the door.

"Ya 'oid right, Jacky-boy. Brought 'er in de odduh night."

The other boy raised his eyebrows at Spot's diction. His expression indicated that he intended for them to further discuss it later.

"Kat." Spot's voice startled her. Every eye in the room turned to look at her. He gestured for her to come forward. Her face reddened as she approached and she ducked her head so that her hair fell over her cheeks. The new boy's bright eyes followed her.

"Dis is Kat." every pore radiated confidence as he introduced her. He laid a hand on her shoulder.

"An' dis is Jack. E's da leaduh in Manhattan."

Jack nodded sociably to her.

"Nice ta' meet ya."

"I'm sure the pleasure's all mine." she replied skeptically. Spot smirked and moved to sling his arm across her shoulders.

"I see ya' brought Davey." he directed all attention to a boy leaning in the corner behind Jack. Kat hadn't noticed him come in. He had strong features that sheltered grey-blue eyes and were framed by a mop of curly brown hair. He was clearly ill-at-ease, regarding Spot with acute distaste.

"Hello." he said to Kat, still wary. His eyes spent very little time on her before flicking back to Brooklyn's leader.

"We need to speak with you, Spot." He said seriously. Kat felt him stiffen beside her before relaxing into a purposefully casual stance, his arm growing heavy across the base of her neck. She shifted uncomfortably.

"Oh yeah?" Spot sneered and turned aside to Jack. "Jacky-boy, why you keep bringin' dis scum ta my Brooklyn ta soil da air?" He faced David again.

"Don' tell me whut ta do. We'll talk when I say so."

Jack pushed off from where he lounged against the wall to stand between David and Spot. He playfully agreed with Spot, chuckling as he did so, and reached back to put a hand on David's shoulder.

"Davie's right dou'" he added as the boy stumbled up beside him. "We do got some stuff fer ya ta hear—when youse is ready ta hear it." Kat glanced back and forth between the two; Jack obviously respected Spot—and out of more than just fear—but Spot's eyes were trusting when they appraised Jack. She realized with some wonder that more than just leaders and diplomats, they were good friends. Spot's hostility had completely vaporized when Jack stepped forward. Spot agreed to speak to them, skimming his gaze over his boys to be sure that they had gone back to their business. If they hadn't they were certainly putting on a good show of it.

His eyes fell on Kat next and she gave him a cautious smile. His mouth slid into a mischievous smirk before he turned back to Jack. His hand fell from her shoulders to the small of her back, causing her to stiffen automatically, her back arching away from him. He glanced back at her. He looked… confident? Amused? As though he knew what would happen next. She relaxed so that his hand brushed her back again. Even through her camisole and shirt it was hot.

Spot leaned forward, muttering to Jack; his fingers flexed as he did so, having left his arm stretched out behind him to keep Kat in place. Because she couldn't hear the exchange- and she was fairly certain that she wasn't meant to- she looked at David, whose expressions indicated he didn't agree with whatever was being said. The crease between his eyebrows deepened until something Spot asserted forced him to finally speak up.

"You can't!" his voice broke at the peak, switching from a whisper to its normal volume.

"We're talking about _her_, she can't come!"

Kat's ears perked up. As far as she knew, she was the only female they could be referring to. Spot's hand tightened on her back, affirming her suspicions. He mumbled a few words in the same inaudible tone as before and David sighed and set his jaw in frustration. Spot pulled Kat forward.

"Let's go fer a walk." He announced triumphantly, leading her to the door much to the obvious annoyance of David. He moved from her side to tug the door open and his blue eyes glittered as though enjoying some personal joke. Kat felt a smile on her own face as she stepped outside. His pleasure was certainly contagious. It was Jack who appeared at her side, stuffing his hands into his pockets and whistling a familiar tune. Kat felt vaguely uncomfortable, unsure of the news the Manhattaners brought and how they had reacted to her thus far, but Jack's pleasant countenance and cheery tune set her at ease. They sauntered along in silence for a few paces, with Spot shrugging in between them and David skulking along on Jack's other side.

"How goes t'ings in Man'attan?" Spot asked presently, without looking at the subject to whom his question had been directed.

"I ain't hoid much lately."

Jack shrugged and his song stopped.

"I can't complain none. Da' sellin ain't been too bad and da boys is all good. I gotta story I t'ink you'll like ta hear." He added and launched into the tale of a boy called Racetrack and his attempt to woo a factory girl. As he talked, Kat's mind began to wander. She admired the sun setting on the horizon and the way it reflected in the shop windows. The streets were unnaturally still as the factories had recently let out and all their workers had hurried home to their families. Her body only ached minimally from her trials of late—first her introduction to Brooklyn and then her scuffle with Gibbs. It hurt so that she hardly noticed it now, and the fact that she didn't have any chance of glimpsing the bruises in a reflection anywhere only served to obscure the memories even more. Spot's shirt still hung loosely on her shoulders. He hadn't said anything about it. She had caught Jack eyeing it when he came in and now wondered if perhaps it was Spot's way of marking his territory. She intended to return it when they got home, as her own shirt was surely dry by now.

Kat glanced over at the boys next to her. Jack's face was animated with the telling of his story, and David's expression had lightened some in the humor of the moment. Spot was supremely smug, both because of the chuckle the story elicited and the tizzy he had seemingly put David in. He didn't look at her, nor did he shift his body in any particular way, but the energy he projected was suddenly… aware—of her; of her eyes on his face.

Jack had grown silent once more; Kat was just beginning to wonder why Spot had insisted she come along, when he spoke up.

"So ya gotta problem wid mah Kitten, 'ere." His matter-of-fact tone had her eyes widening. Now she understood David's adamancy before. He looked unhappy and uncomfortable now, searching for the right words under the pressure of Spot's resolute gaze.

"We ain't unhappy wid 'er." Jack reasserted. "We jis don' understand is all. We hoid 'bout it yestaday 'n… wull… what's da deal, 'ere, Spot?"

"What deal, Kelly? Dere ain' no deal. She kin sell, she kin get along fine, dere ain't no reason fer 'er not ta be one a me newsies." She looked away to hide her expression. Spot was purposefully making the entire situation awkward for everyone involved—except himself, of course.

"Ya don need a goil ta sell wid. An youse got plenty fa all da odduh stuff." Jack persisted. Kat blushed. Spot raised an eyebrow. David interjected.

"It's not that we disapprove of you personally, Kat. You seem like a nice girl and a fine newsie. We just don't see the point, Spot. Does this mean that Manhattan will be expected to house girls? It isn't a girl's job-they're just collateral. We have enough boys who need jobs. Why doesn't she just work in a factory with the other girls?"

There was a tight silence when he stopped. Kat wasn't sure if she was supposed to be offended-whether David had meant for her to be or not. Spot's response chose hers.

"I don tell nobody how ta run t'ings—don' you tell me. Kat ain't 'ere fer no 'use', she's 'ere cause I say she is. An she ain't leavin till I say she does." The muscles in his forearm stood out as he clenched his hand over the top of his cane. His mouth was a hard line, set in a face tilted in the air to indicate the danger David's case was in. Once again, Jack interrupted to smooth ruffled feathers before David could really ruin relations with Brooklyn.

"All we wanna know is what dis means fer us. We don care whatcha do, Spot. What's dis mean fer us? That's all we wanna know."

There was a long silence as he measured his response. He looked intently at David, who was frowning again and squirming.

"Dis don have not'in ta do wid you." He said finally.  
"So not'in 'ill change?"

"Not'in."

Kat glanced between the two and decided that perhaps it was her turn to speak up.

"Spot," she whispered, leaning into his side in an attempt to shield her words from David and Jack. "I didn' know my being here was going to be such a problem." He looked down at her seriously.

"You ain't a problem. If I say you stay, den you stay." He grabbed the top of her arm and turned back to the lodging house.

"We're goin 'ome."

"Wait, Spot. We still have t'ings ta tell ya bout" Jack called after him, but to no avail.

Kat glanced apologetically over her shoulder and Spot's hand, to where Jack stood. Spot did not. He continued walking, past the lodging house, down by the docks, and straight up to the tiny hut from before.


	7. Chapter 7

"Enough. I'm not doing this anymore—not until I know what's going on." Kat's outburst surprised her and she stopped quickly, but Spot didn't seem at all surprised.

He stood thoughtfully for a moment before brushing past her and dropping to the cot. He leaned back against the wall and stashed his cane beside him.

"I'm gonna level wid ya cause I don care dat ya know—I ain't got notin ta hide. But dis is my decision. Every decision is my decision."

"I know. I don't have a problem with your authority just get on with it."

Because she seemed heated and Spot didn't like being told what to do, he took his time.

"You bein a goil ain't da reason everyone's all riled up. Dey's agitated cause yer wid me. I don jist take in no street trash—ders a reason Brooklyn's da toughest. Now dey don know ya like I does, and dey tink dat the only reason I'd 'ave ya round is ta *ahem* corrupt yer youthful innocence." Kat forced herself to be still much as she wanted to shift uncomfortably. She forced herself to make eye contact with him—he would have to break it before she would. And he wasn't.

"I know bout all da kids in da streets a Brooklyn—know bout most a da kids from da rest a da boroughs too. I know dere business. I know who's useful an who ain't. So I knew you back when you was in Queens. I know yer nutin special as a newsie. I know yer uncontrolled and wouldn be much use in a fight." His eyes trailed over her rage-filled form. "You don ave notin ta offer me."

"I get it." She interrupted with a puffed breath. "I'm nothing."

"An don ferget it." He parried, rising again to his feet with dangerous eyes and a tight jaw. His hostility flooded the enclosed space so that her insides twisted so violently she not only turned her eyes but her back on him. The floor creaked as he closed the distance between them, his breath growing warm on her neck.

"Dis is my woild." He said softly. "No madduh what no one says, I own dis city. Da only reason yer here is cos I said ya could be. The only reason you stay is cos I say ya kin. I don't gotta explain notin ta you." There was a thick silence.

"Spot." Kat began slowly, methodically. She fought to stay calm even as he had managed to do nothing but infuriate her further. "You're not answering my questions. Don't think I don't realize that. Everything you've told me has been what I already know. I honestly don't care why you let me stay. Your intentions are nothing to me." She lied, "You asked me to live here, asked me to work for you, and I accepted because… well because we both know I can't do any better. This is my best option and I'm gonna do whatever the hell you ask me to because I don't have any other choice. But if it turns out that this isn't the opportunity I thought it was…" she paused to collect her thoughts because she really wasn't sure where she was going. "I don't need you to baby me, Spot. I know better than to ask you for any favors. I'll do what you ask. I'm ready to make you the boss—in my mind I already have—but I feel that I need…" she hesitated again but the impartial expression he'd adopted when she started persisted. "I need your word, too. I need to know that you're worth following." His eyes locked onto hers so that she couldn't think of anything but that and wonder if she had just ruined her chance at safety.

"Whaddaya tink so far?" he asked impassively.

"If I didn't believe in you I wouldn't still be here." She replied, and though her voice was soft it wasn't weak. She dropped her gaze, unable to keep looking at him. But his fingers scratched at her chin and raised her face back up.

He smirked.

"Bout time ya started talking like ya belong here." He growled and then brushed her neck with knowledgeable hands.

"Never been so attracted ta ya." He added with his head cocked obnoxiously to the side. Furious, Kat pulled away, further into the hut with indiscernible words sputtering from her parted lips. Spot followed.

"Don look so betrayed, Kitten." He chuckled, "I gotta know yer wid me."

"All you had to do was ask!" she spewed.

"I gotta know ya mean it." He grabbed her hand then, so she couldn't pull away, and shocked her by dropping to one knee.

"Fair Katherine," he teased," Jist as ya give yer allegiance ta me, so I promise my undyin guidance an protection as yer leader." His eyes glittered with the joy of a good joke, one eyebrow raised as though welcoming her to accept his invitation. They both knew what her answer would be, irritating as Spot was. She nodded once, determined to remain unsmiling.

"One more ting." He ordered as she struggled in the arms that suddenly ensnared her waist. And he kissed her. Hard. His lips committed to hers in a rough and certain way, moving expertly without waiting for her reaction. Kat was so surprised she didn't even have time to close here eyes before he was smirking in her vision again.

"*Now* ya kin stay." He asserted smugly, and pulled her, dazed, onto the dock, chuckling as he did so. He let her go when they neared the end of the shipyard and he felt that she could walk again, but neither of them said anything. Kat's mind was a whirlwind of befuddled activity. She felt that she should not be okay with what had just taken place between them—she knew Spot; she knew that this didn't mean anything. But she wasn't sorry he'd kissed her. She glanced over at him—at his tousled hair and amused denim eyes—and wanted to squeal with delight. Spot Conlon had just kissed her and, whether she should have or not, she had loved it.


End file.
